Archive for the 'Authors' Category
Neo-Bullshitters!*
January 23, 2010..having been fed “aggressively” for the past few decades; Bourgeois culture and its production and remolding of bourgeois morality somehow lately managed to fuse its self with hippies only to prove there is nothing more sickening than smelly, barefoot, weed-smoking lower-bourgeois hippies other than the neatly-dressed upper-bourgeois bullshitters whose new hobbies, next to shopping, are saving the world and feeding the Africans!
Apparently the most selling merchandise next to weapons, arms, politics, pornography and coke is conscious!
That which is packaged in all sorts of themes; the environmentalist package, the vegetarian, the freedom-of-expression package, the caring-for-the-homeless, the president-on-Oprah package, the world-free-of-smoking, the rescue-the-whales and the leave-Britney-alone package!
Go and light a cigarette for all its worth because to build your stupid Hybrid a fucking god-scale factory is built in east-asia with abused workers whose annual income don’t match to your “Save-the-World” bumper sticker – and when that worker rests to light a cigarette you won’t let him so he won’t harm your health!
* this is not intended to ‘enlighten’ anyone in anyway, deliver any idea nor ‘stimulate’ anyone to think! But it is only a public deceleration of refusal!
___
“Bourgeois democracy is democracy of pompous phrases, solemn words, exuberant promises and the high-sounding slogans of freedom and equality. But, in fact, it screens the non-freedom and inferiority of women, the non-freedom and inferiority of the toilers and exploited.“
“Love Died” on a Wall in Amman!
November 18, 2009Written by Khaled Sedki for WAW Al Balad
To be released in WAW’s Issue/8.
A wall once told me, as I walked by it, that love died; “Khaled, mat al-hob!”
It knew my name, so I guess it was addressing me personally.
Walls usually tell us a lot of stuff; to vote for the wrong people, to buy things we don’t need or to rent apartments. Some walls gossip about who loves who ‘forever’, what sports-club the kids of the neighborhood are fans of, or simply threatens anyone who attempts to ‘piss’ next to them.
But this wall specifically wanted to let me know that “love is dead”, as if it was a sequel to Nietzsche’s old announcement, yet the latter at least bothered to offer an explanation!
I looked around the wall, even the other side of the wall and all the walls of the neighborhood to find any further details on how, when or why love has died. Whether it was murdered, or simply died of cancer or perhaps aids! But that’s all there is! None of the kids around the area have seen the dying love, or heard about its tragic death, but they all believe it is dead, and none of them seemed to be bothered by that ‘fact’.
Walls talk to us; with our words- I prefer graffiti-sprayed walls to neat bourgeoisie-guarding fences.
Words on the walls are like riddles, solving them is decoding a culture through its own spontaneous, irrational and collective means of expression and reproduction of its self, its values and its symbols.
So try reading walls, writing or even commenting on them! True you can’t post links, videos or pictures on city walls like you do on Facebook walls, but these walls are not virtual, they’re not limited to ‘friends’ and at least they don’t feature Google ads!
Walls are urban canvases that bare our traces, whether carved, designed or built; they are a way of urban communication found by cave-men and lost for the polished image of sexy tourism.
Words spoken on a wall are there to stay, even if painted over; they remain in a wall’s memory, layers of brick, concrete, words and paint. Hammurabi’s codes, anarchist propaganda, Pharaoh’s history and Greek wisdom were all written on walls, and if love truly died, then you first read it on a wall in Amman.







…




